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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years ago

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In The Mood For Chaos

"He knew her in a way no one else ever could."

“You corrupted her soul, what else did you expect”

🍒 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Callsign Cherry Masterlist

🍒 Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Y/N 'Cherry' Bishop, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Y/n 'Cherry' Bishop

🍒 Word Count: 7.3k

🍒 Warnings: Parental death, angst, POW and very sensitive topics, Bradley... idk what he's doing today lol, swearing, breach of trust, loss of friendship (and love...), protective Jake, protective Bob, mourning, a lot of crying, drinking, dark headspace

🍒 A/n: I would like to note that I know how sensitive this topic is and I want to caution anyone that is reading this. I could never know or capture all of the feelings that families go through, and if you have been through this situation or lost anyone while they were in the military, I'm sending you my deepest condolences and am sending you all the love.

🍒 A/n pt 2: I just wrote this in the last five hours and cried a lot. It wasn't supposed to be an angsty story, but we've got multi-layered characters here.

🍒 Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

Your chest heaves as the sweat drips between the swell of your breasts, and the sound of your shoes hitting the packed sand keeps a steady tempo for you to run to. The sound of waves crashing barely reaches your ears, as you push yourself harder. You catch sight of the sun starting to peak up over the horizon, which causes you to check your watch.

4:45

4 miles in 45 minutes wasn’t horrible, but it was nowhere close to your best. You had woken up at 3, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. It was the same reaction every time you came back to San Diego, maybe it was how abruptly your grandparents took you away, maybe it was a visceral reaction that you had no control over, or maybe you were still that broken little girl.

It was most likely the latter, though you don’t allow the thought to float around long in your head. It’s how you had ended up running, any way to get away from the reality of the situation. Quiet literally running away from your problems.

The bay curves around, low tide with an expanse of sand that led right up to the house you rented. Your eyes cast across the bay and find the small white house, placed perfectly on the beach and close to the base, with a small dock off the back that connects directly to the harbor.

You only let yourself look at it momentarily as the sunrise lights up the expanse of sand, before focusing back on the path in front of you. A harsh breath pushes from your chest as you break out into a sprint, a gasp toeing the line of a cry. Your chest burns and you relish in the pain, anything to take away how your heart hurts.

You reach the pavement of the street that’s a straight stretch to the bungalow, 1 more mile. You had been pacing yourself, but as memories flash across your mind you could care less. You needed, to feel something that was physical pain, to prove you were still breathing. A sharp ache settles in your side, but you can see the front porch from a distance and so you push harder.

A grimace crosses your face as a metallic taste settles in the back of your mouth, and your chest aches, but you can’t stop not when you were so close. Another gasp releases from your chest and causes you to push that final step more.

You don’t make it to the door, the moment your feet touch the grass, you collapse. Your chest heaves in pain and have to spit out the mucus coating your throat. Though the tint of red proves that it was more blood than spit. You roll on your back as your gasps, turn into silent sobs.

Your body aches and screams at you for your reckless behavior, though you settle in the pain. Letting it pull you down and consume you completely. Your therapist had once told you that pushing this hard, was a form of self-harm. You stopped seeing her after that appointment, it wasn’t that you couldn’t come to terms with your trauma. It was the fact that it was the only thing, other than flying, that could clear your mind.

Besides, it wasn’t the worst thing that you could do.

No, you’d gone down that road while in high school. Jake was the only one that knew just how far things had gone. As much as you despised him now, for a long time he was your only reason to keep breathing.

...

You wipe the steam from the mirror, before towel drying out your hair. The sound of a door closing is followed by a knock on the door.

“Hold on Bobby. Your coffee is in the kitchen too.”

You hear a small hum in reply, and you laugh lightly. Bob was never a morning person and in the last two weeks, you had made sure that you had his coffee ready before he got out of bed. It’s not that you liked waking up early, but more so that sleep escaped you regularly.

You grab the oversized tee shirt from the counter, before slipping it on your frame. For going shorts, the old Texas longhorn’s shirt covered enough and it wasn’t as if didn’t Bob hadn’t already seen everything. One of the perks of living with each other for 4 years, it had become such a regular occurrence that it no longer phased either of you. You were quite positive that you could walk around naked, and the only thing Bobby would comment on would be the set of tan lines that adorned your skin over the past two weeks.

You slip out of the bathroom and head toward the kitchen, wanting to make sure that he had indeed found his coffee, but also that he didn’t steal yours. You almost laugh at the sight of his half-naked form leaning over the kitchen table, while keeping his coffee tucked in close.

Though the cup of coffee sitting opposite of him, has you smiling as you slip into the seat across from him. You slip your cup silently waiting for Bobby to at least get half the cup in his system before you try and hold a conversation. You glance at the oven, it was only 6:30 and you didn’t have to be on base until 8 and the drive was only 15 minutes. Your eyes fall back to Bob as an empty cup now sits between the two of you. You snicker as he rakes a hand threw his hair, it causes his baby blues to settle on you.

“It’s Saturday tomorrow, Bobby. Two whole days for you to sleep in.”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t wake me up.” His tone is teasing though your smile falls into a frown.

“I didn’t mean to wake you; it’s just being back here.”

Your words have his sleep-deprived brain clearing and the apology is already sitting at the tip of his tongue. Though you stop him before he has the chance, by giving his hand a small squeeze. His hand settles in yours and gives you a squeeze in return. You had lost so many people throughout your life and couldn’t have been more thankful that you had him.

The pair of you sit in silence, enjoying the quiet morning before the chaos of your everyday life commences. The past two weeks had been relatively calm, other than the sublet jabs that Rooster and Hangman like to throw at you. It was funny, and it only got worse as you stayed slightly ahead of them in all of the exercises. It had gotten to the point that you were just taunting them; dogfights were your favorite. Maverick had switched to having someone from the class be the enemy target and somehow.... by some luck unbeknownst to you, the three of you always ended up in the air together.

The three of you had kept the jabs surface level, nothing digging too deep that would actually cause damage. You weren’t willing to risk losing your place on the detachment or let some feud put anyone else in the squadron at risk.

Your eyes shift back to Bobby as he rises from his chair and takes both of your cups to the sink. His hands settle on your shoulders as he stands behind you and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Cher.”

Your hand reaches up to clasp one of his hands, giving it a squeeze and a small kiss. While Bobby knew everything, it didn’t make actually talking about it any easier.

“Thanks, B.”

The nickname slips from your lips and causes Bob's hands to tighten, as a full laugh falls from his lips. You rarely called him B, and when you did it was used to break the tension in the air. That first night that the pair of you tried to see if you could be anything more, you had made a point that you wouldn’t be moaning Robert or Bob. So, B became the given name, and well... it only landed you two in a fit of laughter. It was your own personal inside joke.

...

Your eyes scan the hanger as you and Bob make your way to your seats, though as your eyes settle on a familiar face a massive grin appears on your lips. Bob had already made it to your seats, and you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze to get his attention from Phoenix.

You nod to the front of the hanger, toward the group of older gentlemen talking before the day starts. His eyes find the dark head of hair that had been missing for the last two weeks and gives you an understanding smile, before pushing your hip forward lightly.

Your boots echo through the hanger, and you can feel the different sets of eyes find your passing figure, though you pay them no mind. You come to a stop just behind the three men, waiting for Maverick to finish his sentence. You see Warlock’s shift to see you and give you a small smile, which makes your own smile grow as their conversation ends.

“Admiral.” Your tone is steady as you say it, and you quickly wipe the smile from your face as he turns.

“Lieutenant.”

His face remains serious as the pair of you stare at one another. You can hear the rest of the pilots behind you quietly talking about the pair of you, though you pay them no mind. Slowly the stern look turns into a full smile, though yours stays in place waiting.

“Hey, kid.”

The nickname makes a full smile break across your lips and for a moment you’re a little girl again. His arms reach out to hug you, though you’re already throwing yourself into his arms and grasping on like you were worried he might slip away.

“Hi, Uncle Beau.”

Your throat catches as you say it and cause Cyclone’s arms to tighten around you before letting go. The both of you pull back and give each other one last smile, before falling back into line. You nod at the other two men who hadn’t moved, each of them giving you a small smile. You give the three of them one last smile, your heart already finding some form of peace over the fact of having your godfather close.

Your smile falls as you turn and make direct eye contact with Hangman and Rooster, before brushing passed them to go sit with Bobby.

“Lieutenant Bishop,” Cyclone's voice echoes through the hanger and causes you to turn back around. “Come see me later, we’ve got a few things to talk about. One of them being Lieutenant Commander Adams.”

Your eyes widen slightly, the man might have only been your godfather, but he sure took the job of vexing any of your “friends” seriously. You can hear Bob laugh to the side of you and your arm punches out to hit him on the shoulder.

“Of course, Admiral.”

You sink down into the seat next to Bob who is still snickering beside you, “You think it’s about you and Adams in that f-18? What were you doing again?” Your face blanches slightly, though your eyes remain trained on the whiteboard. “Going over how well you could grip the yoke?”

You slowly turn to Bob, who has a cheeky smile taunting you. Your eyes find Payback, Fanboy, and Phoenix who are practically leaning over the back of your and Bob's chairs to hear. Each of them looks at you while trying not to smile, which they are failing phenomenally at.

“Fuck you, Robert.”

Your tone is anything but harsh, and a small chuckle breaks from your chest as you rest back in your chair.

...

Once again you had been chosen to be the enemy target for the dynamic idiot duo, by now you were sure that Maverick was doing it as a way of “therapy” for the three of you. The two of them stop at their own F-18s as you head farther down the tarmac, though Rooster’s voice yelling at you has you turning around to see what it was now that he was bitching at now.

“What do I have to do to get on the Cherry Popping List, Cherry?”

You almost let the words go over your head, though the small snicker at the in pulls you back. The comment and action not only affect you though, as you watch Jake tense up and glare at his wingman. If looks could kill, Rooster would be six feet under.

“Sorry, I’m not one to lower my standards.” A smile crosses your lips that has Rooster standing straighter. “Especially for pilots that can’t get into the Academy on the first go.”

You don’t wait to see his reaction, already knowing that Maverick holding his papers was a sore subject. You’d heard the rumor when the three of you were in the Academy, though hadn’t realized it was true until you heard Maverick and Rooster arguing last week.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to get in the air, as you hear the pair chattering across the coms. You stay low level, just above the hard deck, waiting for them to get restless.

Rooster's voice cuts across the frequency again, “So Hangman, tell me, was she any good? Figure asking from someone with first-hand experience is better than nothing.”

Rooster's laugh echoes across the radio, and for the minute you give them, before you're officially pissed, Jake doesn’t say anything. You glance up and see their pair of F-18s right above you before you pop up. They’re separated just enough, and they have no clue that you’re just under them, soon to be on top.

“You should worry about your own sex life Rooster; I’ve heard quite a few underwhelming reviews.”

The sentence slips off your lips, though before either of them can reply you shoot up through the pair. Sending each of them off to the side in a barrel roll and now it’s your laugh that echoes across the coms.

“What the fuck was that.” Jake’s voice rings out and breaks up the laughing fit you were having due to them both gasping.

“It’s called, I’m about to kick your ass and win 50 bucks from Coyote.” They both go silent trying to figure out what you mean. You knew that the rest of the squad would be listening to the coms, specifically Javy. “Ain’t that right Javy? This will make ten-”

You're cut off before you can finish, “We’ve gotten tone on you six times.”

You roll your eyes at Rooster, as you bring the nose around and find the two of them.

“No, you’re right Rooster. You’ve done such a good job of coming in second, too bad there’s only one winner.”

You go silent after that, paying neither of them any mind. You need to focus and not worry about the birdbrains; you also knew that your silence unnerved them. Just another perk. It doesn’t take long for you to get behind the pair, though it’s Rooster who you have your eyes on.

He had constantly been trying to piss you off. While Jake made comments, dumb snappy comments, Rooster was like a lover scorned and picked at every little thing he could.

He’d almost brought up your dad the other day, after seeing a picture of your father and Cyclone standing side by side on a carrier. Both of them had been deployed and it was one that you personally had tucked away at home.

Though just as the words “Your father” slipped passed Rooster's lips, Hangman had thrown him a glare that silenced the man. For a minute you saw Jake, not Hangman, though the flash of his green eyes to you was quickly covered up and Jake was gone again.

You didn’t know if you could ever forgive either of them, you had never really thought about it until now, with every look that Jake gave you, you questioned yourself. Could you ever risk opening up like that again, giving someone that much power over you.

Sure, Bobby knew everything, though the “power” he had over you was different than Jake did. Jake held a power over you that terrified you, your bond ran deep and though it was broken, you had never been able you get rid of it wholly.

The pair of them split and you immediately follow Rooster, he’s just in front of you and with every second you’re gaining on him. You’d need to get tone soon; Hangman would be circling back around any moment and on your ass.

“Hey, Chicken” Your words cut through the radio before tone rings out alerting everyone. “Your dead.”

You hear Rooster swearing over the coms, though you're too focused on finding Hangman.

“Where’d you go Hangy.” Your voice is condensing and as it slips over your lips, you level out to find him directly in front of you. The pair of you heading directly for the other.

“Hey, Cher” His laugh has you gritting your teeth, though neither of you hit the button to get tone, even though you’re directly in line.

“You really wanna do this?”

“I missed our games, sweetheart.”

Every second brings you closer, and you can hear chatter echoing through the radio from the rest of the dagger squad.

“You should know better than to play this game, Jake.” The name slips out, though you don’t even realize you’ve said it.

“Just break off Cher, easy as that.”

“Then you do it.”

“Y/n Marie Bishop,” Bob's voice cuts through and gains your attention. “break off. Cher, you don’t need to do this.”

You don’t reply and Jake’s right in front of you now. He doesn’t say anything either and you silently wonder if still remembers how the pair of you played it in the Academy before he ruined everything. You’d gotten caught a couple times and had your fair share of ass chewings. Though if there was anything Jake was good at, was sweet talk his way out of anything. Even when a higher-up was threatening to ground you.

There’s a round of voices echoing through the coms, even Rooster freaking out slightly. Though they fall silent to your ears as one voice echoes out.

“Y/n” Your name falls from his lips so gently that it makes your heart ache. The last syllable of your name passes Jake’s lips and you both break hard right, just barely slipping passed the other.

You’re not sure how to feel knowing that Jake had remembered; did it mean anything or was it just a random fact he hadn’t forgotten?

...

Before you know it you're back on the tarmac, slipping your helmet off and tying your flight suit around your waist. The afternoon heat had become unbearable, and your sweat had made your damn shirt cling to you like a second skin.

You see Hangman and Rooster both climbing from their jets, chatting back and forth, though you can’t hear what they’re saying. Hangman catches your eye, though doesn’t say anything. Maybe he would have if the rest of the squadron wasn’t making their way across the tarmac, Bobby leading them as his lethal gaze settles on you, not wavering in the slightest.

You step toward Bobby, as his eyes asses your sweating form. His hands settle on your shoulders, and you give him a tiny smile, knowing that you were about to get your ass chewed.

“You’re, okay?” The question doesn’t surprise you; Bob had always made your health and safety his first priority when it came to ripping you a new one.

“Yes, Bobby. In one piece, and ready for the Floyd ‘I’m disappointed in you’ speech.”

The answer causes him to laugh, before pulling you in for a hug. A quiet whisper of comfort is muttered against your shoulder and has you tightening your hold before pulling away.

By now the rest of the group, as well as Rooster and Hangman had formed around the pair of you. Your eyes move around the group and each of them looks at you in stunned but apprehensive silence.

“Bob might not be ripping into you, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be there for when Cyclone gets ahold of you.” Fanboy’s comment has a smile breaking across your lips, as you pluck your sunglasses from Bob’s shirt pocket. Bobby clicks his teeth before a small chuckle pushes pasted his lips as he shakes his head at you. Your eyes leave Bob and you give the rest of the squad an award-winning smile.

“You would be surprised just how good I can sweet talk someone,” You move towards Fanboy, and pat his chest gently as you pass. “Especially when it comes to my godfather.” The words are thrown over your shoulder, though you keep walking as a round of questions breaks out.

“Seresin, let’s move it.”

Your tone is harsh, though has both you and Hangman questioning when he became Seresin to you again.

...

“What in the hell were the two of you dumbasses pulling out there?”

Cyclone paces behind the desk that both you and Jake stand at attention in front of. Though before you can answer, Jake speaks up.

“It was my idea, sir.” Both yours and Cyclone’s head whip to look at Jake in bewilderment. “I wanted to make a point that this mission was serious, that it is life or death.”

Cyclone hums though his eyes don’t leave your own, “and you thought playing chicken, with government property, was the proper motivation.”

A sharp nod comes from Jake while his eyes remain dialed in on the bookshelf behind Cyclone.

“First of all, even without hearing the audio from the coms, I would always know this was something Lieutenant Bishop orchestrated.” Cyclone’s eye glances at you, though you’re quick to move your center focal point to something behind him. “Secondly, don’t think that I forgot about the shit you both pulled in the Academy.”

Your eyes follow Cyclone’s gaze to Jake as he mutters that last word. By the way, Jake’s eyes widen slightly and the harsh tone of your godfather, you know that your flight habits are no longer the topic at hand. The silent stare-down between them would be unsettling, if you didn’t know how big of softies, they both were. The clearing of your throat has them snapping out of the daze.

“I’m not grounding you, not when the mission is so close.” A sigh you didn’t realize you were holding leaves your body, you had yet to be grounded in your career, and the thought honestly scared you. The closest you fell to your parents was in the sky. “But I promise you, if either of you pulls that shit again, I’ll ground you the second the mission is finished.”

While you knew that Cyclone was being a hard ass, was because it was his job. On base, he would always be Admiral before Uncle, though the flash of worry in his eyes tells you that it wasn’t his only reason.

“Lieutenant Seresin, you’re dismissed.” Jake glances at you as he leaves though your focus remains forward, silently trying to figure out just how much Cyclone knew about yours and Lieutenant Commander Adams’ agreement. The clicks behind you and the sight of your uncle sighing so heavily does nothing to ease your worrying mind. A nod of the head to the chair directly across from his own causes you to sit.

“What did Adams tell you about the mission?” Your head cocks slightly, this was defiantly not the direction you thought and prepared yourself for.

“Only that Jake and Bradshaw were going to be here.” There you go again, how had he in such a short amount of time, have you back to using his first and last name. You had stopped using them after everything and started only calling him Hangman. He hated when you called him by his callsign, always said it was too impersonal.

Your uncle’s silence paired with the tick in his jaw, causes your chest to tighten. He was never this serious when it was just the two of you, that wasn’t the type of relationship you had. The last time you remember seeing him like this was the day your grandparents took you back to Texas, while you bawled and clutched onto him and your Aunt Julie begging them to change your grandparents’ mind.

“Y/n, Sweetheart, we need to have a talk.” You quietly suck your teeth, and your eyes instantly land on the file Beau sides across his desk. The bright red letters spelling out classified aren’t what catches your attention, it’s the black letter under it, in such blocky letters ‘BISHOP’ glares back at you.

“Honey,” your eyes leave the smile, and the small tremble in your bottom lip, confirms to Cyclone that you have an idea where the conversation is happening. “you were so young when everything happened. I didn’t have the clearance to tell you, even if I wanted to.”

You force a harsh breath through your nose, silently begging for whoever controlled the universe to not break you absolutely with whatever lies with those pages.

“But with you getting placed on this mission, Commander Kazansky, and I both agreed that you should know. That you had a right to know.”

The words catch in your uncle’s throat and have your eyes flashing to him. You wish that you’d have stayed focused on the file because seeing the eyes of one of the strongest men you know lined with tears makes it all worse. Makes whatever you’re about to read more real.

“What part of the story wasn’t true? What’s it have to do with this mission?” you’re surprised that he can even hear you, with how quietly the words slipped passed your lips.

“We’ve been watching the location, where the Uranium plant is for a long time, honey. It wasn’t a plant back then, it was supposed to be some ragtag militia group that broke off Russia’s military.”

Your hands twist in your lap as you boot intently taps on the floor. You can’t bring yourself to grab the folder, too consumed with the voices bouncing around in your mind. They hadn’t told you much back then, just that it was supposed to be an in-and-out mission. Things went wrong, and they lost him. They’d given you minimal details, you were only seven and you’d never questioned what happened.

Because you knew what happened.

Didn’t you?

“We didn’t have the right intel and it wasn’t until we were right over them, that artillery that rivaled ours at the time, started going off.”

A harsh breath leaves your uncle as he turns and pulls a 5th of whiskey from a bottom drawer. The seal is still intact and the snap of it echoes threw your ears, as your eyes slightly blur in and out of focus. A glass is sat in front of you, though you can’t seem to make a move for it.

“Your dad’s plane went down in a clearing; it was the perfect spot. The safest crash site we could have asked for.”

The shake of your uncle’s hand as he downs the rest of his glass has your gaze, you’d never seen him so unkept. Beau Simpson was the top of the top, the United States Navy’s poster child for god’s sake.

“He was gonna be fine, we’d already called in e-vac.”

The shake of his voice as your eyes refocusing and the red-rimmed eye’s staring back at you aren’t one’s you’d ever seen before. Not in this capacity at least.

“They appeared out of nowhere,” your jaw clenches and it’s surprised your teeth haven’t cracked. “they had him out of his plane, before any of us to circle around and get a shot.”

Your body lurches forward slightly and it feels like all the air had been ripped from your chest and the ringing in your ear only gets louder as your uncle talks.

“We were able to bring him home, the week before your mom passed.”

You hadn’t had a panic attack since you were a teenager, though the way you gasp for breath as the words break from you. “That was three years later.”

How you ended up pacing is beyond you,

“don’–” your hands brace against the back of your chair as you rock back on your heels. “Don’t tell me that they had him for three years.”

“That they held him captive for three years before you could get him.”

Your legs fall out from under you and cause you to harshly crash to the floor. Your breath shutters, as you wrap your arms around your knees. Your eyes fall in and out of a hazy as flashbacks of his funeral filter through your mind. “He was alive for three more years, and you swept it under the rug. They had a funeral...”

Your eyes meet Cyclone’s as he watches you, and it breaks you even more. He was fully prepared for you to hate him. You can hold his gaze, instead, you find the folder that lies on the desk still. Without a second thought, you scramble up for it, you knew that whatever it was going to break you. But you had to know.

Cyclone's hand lands on it at the same time yours does, holding it firmly on the desk.

“Sweetheart, you know now. You don’t need to see; I shouldn’t have even gotten the folder out.”

“I need to. I need to see just exactly what I’m going up against, the reason that I’m going to fly this mission and kill every last one of them.”

Your throat is raw with pain, though the drip of hate that seeps from it echoes even after the words died out.

The folder slides from your uncle’s hold and you grasp it cowering back to the corner of the room settling against the wall. The file just sits in your lap, and your hands shake while they ghost over the top though you make no move to open it. Cyclone doesn’t move from his chair and by the time your fingers pry the file open, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting in silence.

The top page is just logistics and a few photos of the landscape you’ve studied endlessly over the last two weeks. Even after 23 years much hadn’t changed, sure they had a runway and a couple more buildings now, but you and your father had studied the same location.

Your tears had stopped falling by now, the realization that your mother had only lived long enough to get buried with your dad settles in. She had been so numb and broken, but still holding it together for you. Nights that you cried yourself to sleep, yelling at the universe for taking him from you. And yet she knew.

She knew that he was somewhere, possibly dead, possibly captive...

Death would have been easier, clean-cut. Without the constant wondering.

Without the small piece of hope that you’re, she held until the very end.

The next page has your stomach turning, and your hands shaking as they ghost across the page. Tracing the fuzzy images, and even though your heart aches, you could feel that blank numb feeling settling in with each page you flip. It’s the last page that kills something within you, your body acting on its own accord as it starts to shake.

It was your father

the lacerations lining his back and chest

the caved in eye socket and broken jaw

the burns and carvings spread across every inch of skin

it was your dad

but the once bright blue eyes were dimmed

dead

he was dead

three years of mutilation

23 years later and now you finally know

but even still it didn’t change that he was gone.

And somehow it felt like a piece of you was too.

Your feet push up from the floor, though the shaking in your hands remains. Your foot sets are slow and careful as you place the folder back on your uncle’s desk. Though the last page remains in your hands, slightly crumped from the grip you have on it.

Those first years in Texas were hard, you missed your parents, but you knew they were together at peace. Now, there still together and at peace... but the truth tares into you in a way that their death hadn’t even been able to.

“Y/n, sweetheart?”

You can barely find the strength to lift your eyes, and the sight of heartbreak looking back at you is only worse. Your head shakes, though the words can’t seem to form. You knew that he would want you to talk about it, but you couldn’t. Not with so much more on the line with this mission. You could finish what your father started; you could do one last thing for him. You would let the pain consume you for the next two days, but when Monday came, you’d shut it down.

Your nose sniffles and your eyes ache. You were tired, so emotionally and physically tired. A knock at the door pulls Cyclone’s attention though your eyes stay settled on the folder. You hear the voice and while you would usually have some snip to say to him, you had nothing. The whiskey bottle sets on the edge of the desk and the hand gripping the god-forsaken page reaches out and grasps it. Your hand drifts off the side of the table, you can’t seem to find the strength to carry it and so it just hangs at your side.

You turn to find a silent Rooster staring at you, they had been talking but stopped at some point now both of them quietly watching you. Your eyes glance back to Cyclone and you can see that he wants to talk, to protest your leaving.

“Not today. Not tell I finish this fucking mission.” Your empty hand points at Cyclone, though your voice lacks your usual conviction.

You can hear him start to say your name, though before he can you sidestep passed Rooster and leave. Your shoulders brush and cause the pilot to turn and watch your disappearing figure. Rooster glances back to Cyclone, though he doesn’t meet Rooster's gaze. His eyes stay settled on the folder on the desk and just barely Rooster can make out your last name.

...

The sound of the Hard Deck door has Bob’s head snapping up in hopes to see you. Jake had shown up two hours ago and said that Cyclone kept you to talk. It didn’t seem like anything out of the normal, plus Cyclone had made the comment about Adams, Bob was sure that you both were just having a good catch-up and laugh.

Though the uneasy face of Rooster coming through the door gains his and everyone else’s attention. It’s a little busier tonight, but Rooster makes it through the crowd in record time and aims straight for Bob.

“Something happened.” The comment is aimed at Bob, though it gains the attention of the whole group and causes them to surround the pair.

“What are you talking about?” Bob was usually meek and mild around the group, though with you missing and Rooster now, his voice comes out hard and demanding.

“Cherry, Y/n.” The use of your name doesn’t go unnoticed and the sight of Rooster now racking a hand through his hair and pacing causes an uneasy feeling to settle over the group. Before Bob can reply, Hangman’s voice cuts in and if you’d have heard it, you would have known that it was Jake. At that moment he was your Jake again.

“Bradshaw, stop fucking pacing and talk.”

“I don’t know what happened. I had to talk to Cyclone about some paperwork, but when I got to his office Y/n was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, gripping onto some paper and not saying anything.” His pacing starts up again, though he keeps talking. “I was just going to ignore it; tell Cyclone I’d talk to him Monday. But the look in his eyes as he watched her, he was barely holding it together. Before I could leave Y/n grabbed the 5th of whiskey and went to leave, she was a shell, guys. Cyclone tried to stop her, and I don’t know what she meant, but I’d never heard her sound like that. Broken, completely vacant.”

“What the fuck did she say Rooster?” The curse word falls from Bob’s lip so naturally, it would call for some attention, though with the problem at hand, no one seemed to notice.

“She said ‘Not today. Not till I finish this fucking mission.’ The words were barely a whisper and then she was just gone. I caught sight of a file on Cyclone’s desk, was classified but it had Bishop blocked out across it.”

You and Bob had this location rule, that you would always keep it on for each in case something happened, and he had never been so thankful. He hears Hangman release a round of curse words as the group talk trying to figure out what to do.

The small dot that lights up Bob’s phone has him releasing a breath, though the location was on the edge of the water, and he didn’t have any idea where you would be around there.

“I’ve got her location, but I don’t ha–”

The phone is ripped from his hand by Jake and before Bob can say anything Jake shoves the phone back into Bob’s hand and turns to leave.

“You’re not going to see her, Hangman.” The comment halts Jake and causes him to slowly turn around and assess Bob. “You’ll just make it worse; you need to say here.”

Jake’s shoulders tense up and the five steps to Bob only take him two. The pair of them stand eye to eye and causes Javy to try and slip in between them.

“Floyd, don’t fucking test me right now.” Bob doesn’t falter at the words and instead steps that inch closer. “You might know a lot, but this, you don’t know fucking shit.”

Jake’s voice cracks slightly and Bob’s stance softens slightly.

“I know exactly where she’s at and I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it’s about. So, I’m gonna go and if you try and stop me, I’ll put you on your ass so fucking quick.”

“Thought she didn’t mean anything to you anymore?”

“She has and always will mean everything to me, Floyd. And right now, she isn’t Cherry. She’s the little ten-year-old that I hugged and held every day that first summer. That little girl needs me and I’ve fucked up a lot, but this. You would have to kill me, to stop me from helping Her.”

...

How you ended up back here, you’re not sure. Call it survival mode that took you back to your safe place. You hadn’t been here since you were fifteen, when you and Jake had flown in for your mother’s, and you guess your father’s, five years.

You’d stripped out of your flight suit after you finished 1/4th of the bottle, finding a pair of shorts in the back of your jeep. Then found your way out to the little cove, it was just off the trail you ran this morning and from it, you could watch the one place that should have been your forever home. But lost the glimmer and shine after they died.

You lift the bottle and the lightness of it has you looking at it in wonder of how you had already put over half the bottle away. Your toe’s dig deeper into the sand as you take another drink. The tears flow from your eyes freely and the burning sensation that should be in the back of your throat is missing.

The sound of feet walking across the slippery rock path, that’s slowly disappearing as the tide rises, gets your attention and you find the one face that you're surprised to see and yet not at all surprised. Jake was the only one you’d ever brought here, he was the only one you trusted enough once upon a time.

“Are you Hangman or Jake today?” Your eyes cloud over and cause you to look back out at the water as he stops just to the side of you. “Cause there’s only one of them that I’m gonna talk to.” You try to sound strong and sure of yourself, though the end breaks through with a small laughing cry.

“Hey, Darlin’.”

The name causes a sob to release from your chest and finally breaking down around the only person you’d ever let fully in. For this moment none of the bullshit matters, you’d need him. You needed your Jake, and he’d come.

His arms wrap around you as your chest heaves, and you can’t seem to catch your breath. Though the hand against the back of your head and the chest you rest against feels like home. He rocks you gently, whispering soothing words against the crown of your head, separated by a kiss every now and then.

Time seems to escape you, though you know it’s been a bit because the tide has risen, and yet Jake hasn’t let go of you once. Your breathing has finally slowed and matches his, grasping onto the one thing that has always grounded you. Even through the bullshit, the thought of Jake, not Hangman, but Jake always settled you.

“What happened, honey?”

Neither of you had talked, other than Jake’s quiet muttering, you had disconnected. You pull back from the warmth of his chest before your eyes then fall to the crinkled piece of paper sitting under the whisky bottle. You don’t make a move for it, you couldn’t look at it again. One of his arms slips from around you to grab the paper, and the small whimper that leaves your chest has Jake’s other hand tightening around you.

“I got you.” You cling to his shirt as another kiss is placed on the top of your head. The sudden tension that rips through Jake’s chest confirms that he’s finally looked and knows exactly who he’s looking at. Anyone could see the resemblance between you and your father, but Jake had come to know him on a deeper level. Through each picture, letter, and tearful night Jake knew him through your eyes. He knew what he meant to you.

Another shaky breath falls from your chest, at the thought of the image and Jake is quick to discard it. He leans back from you, to look at you, needing to see what was racing through your head. He lays a hand across your cheek and gently wipes the falling tears away.

“That was three years after his funeral.” He’d never seen you so broken, not even during the first years you lived in Texas. His brow creases in question and the words fall from your lips so vacantly. “They had him for three years, Jake. They... they... they”

The sentence doesn’t make it passed your lips, as another sob breaks from your chest. You fall back into his chest and the arms wrapped around you hold on to you a little tighter. You miss the shutter breath that matches your own, the harsh breath that shakes through his chest. The words try to break from your lips, but only quiet mutters bounce off of his chest.

“I know, darlin’.” You miss the tear that falls from him. “I’ve got you; I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that, curled up in Jake Serein’s lap. The home that you lost. And somehow found again.

He was your Jake again...

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years ago

Text

The Monster You Created

“You corrupted her soul, what else did you expect”

🍒 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Callsign Cherry Masterlist

🍒 Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Y/N 'Cherry' Bishop, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Y/n 'Cherry' Bishop

🍒 Word Count: 4.3 k

🍒 Warnings: Parental death, sexism, asshole Jake and Bradley, jokes about them being together, swearing, breach of trust, talk of virginity loss, loss of friendship (and love...), angst, AS (asshole pilot), protective Bob, mourning

🍒 A/n: Here we go, let me know what you guys think. Bobby has made become an unexpected important appearance and he's staying.

🍒 Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

Your nails drum against the steering wheel as you drive, and the saltwater breeze fills the air surrounding you. You had just recently taken the top off your jeep and the warm summer weather did wonders for your skin. The sunglasses that rest on the bridge of your nose dim the blinding light of the sunset, though as you pull into the Hard Deck you lower them to take in the beachside bar.

Receiving the call back to Top Gun came as somewhat of a surprise, though you had heard through the chain line that there was a new mission brewing. It was the luck that came with having good connections in the Navy, not just because of your late father, but because you had also made quite a name for yourself in the past ten years.

You slip from the cherry red jeep that matches your nails and the short red and white polka-dotted dress swings against your thighs, barely covering your backside. You reach up to run your hands through your hair, effectively releasing the knots from the drive. Your keys swing on your finger as you make your way into the bar, and your eyes catch sight of an all too familiar bronco sitting in the lot.

You slip through the doors and the momentary blast of cool air is quickly ridden from you and exchanged for the overly stuffy heat in the overpacked bar. You catch a few eyes, service men that think you’re going to be their willing prey for the night. A small teasing smile rests on your lips and you may or may not innocently bat your eyes at them. Though you don’t stay in one place long enough for them to make a move towards you.

The simple, yet intimidating stride you take toward the bar has patrons moving out of your way and the click of your heels seems to gain the attention of the entire bar. You can feel the different sets of eyes watching you and though you used to mind all of the attention and shy away from it. Now you reveled in it, it came with the persona and built a sturdy barrier that no one was able to cross.

Your eye’s find Penny as she gives you a small smile, while you lean up against the bar top and give her a genuine smile. Penny had been in your life long before Top Gun when your parents were still alive, and she had essentially become the aunt you never had.

“God, Italy did you good.” Her eyes move up and down your form before she motions you to do a small turn, with her finger.

“Could have been the weather, culture, maybe the food.” Your hands rest on the bar, and you lean into her. “But it’s probably because of the men.”

She gives you a full laugh, with her head thrown back, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“We missed you.” The words are muttered quietly and you give her a squeeze back in answer before she is pulling away and getting you a drink. The words make your gut twist and causes your heel to tap away. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss Penny and Amelia, it was just too hard being back. Driving down the street you once walked and seeing things that reminded you of everything you lost.

You can feel the stare as it burns a hole in the back of your head, and while you had only seen Rooster’s bronco, you were sure Hangman had gotten the call back as well. Your focus is taken from Penny as a figure slides up to the bar top next to you, their hand just barely ghosting against your waist, but enough to get you to turn around in question.

“You’re even prettier up close.”

Your eyes nearly see the back of your head as they roll, but you notice the khaki uniform and decide to play. Your hand falls to his that’s resting on the bar and a small giggle emits from your chest, as you give him a teasing smile.

He tells you his callsign and then explains that he’s a pilot, all while you maintain innocence and act completely oblivious to the military world. A glass slides into your hand, the amber liquid sloshing and you give Penny a quiet thank you, before winking.

“Put it on my tab, honey.”

Penny looks between the two of you, before giving the guy a smirk and a nod. You hid behind your glass, eyes peeking over the rim as you smile, then take a small sip of the whiskey. You would laugh at the poor guy and how he was completely oblivious to who you were, but the free drink was incentive enough to not spoil his night quite yet.

“So, you’re a fighter pilot,” Your voice is breathy, and the smile he gives you doesn’t hide the thoughts that are already racing through his mind. “Have you ever had to shoot anyone down?”

The question seems innocent enough and the gentle tilt of your head in wonder has the guy’s hand coming to rest at your hip.

“I’ve had many close calls, honey.” His hand slightly grabs at the material of your dress. “But there are only two active pilots with air-to-air kills.”

You hum in acknowledgment, which has him continuing as you take another drink. You tune out for a moment when you catch movement to the right of you, but you don’t risk the turn around to see who is making their way toward you. The use of your callsign has your attention on the pilot, and the look you give him has him repeating for you.

“Hangman and Cherry, only pilots that have air-to-air kills. Hangman’s got one under his belt, he’s actually a good friend of mine.” You almost laugh at the desperation seeping off him, you know damn well that he doesn’t know Jake and it’s only a last-stitched effort to get in your pants. “What about, Cherry?”

“She’s got two, lucky kills though.” The words make you glare slightly at the man, but he’s too consumed in himself to even notice. “She’s also the resident bitch of the Navy.”

You knew what people that didn’t know you, said about you. The name was no surprise, but that didn’t make you any less pissy at the term. Though before you can say something, the movement from your right comes into view and the smell of sandalwood consumes your senses.

A hand slips around your waist and effectively pushes the pilot’s hand from your hip. You breathe in the scent and your beating heart calms at the new presence. The familiarity has you leaning farther into the body, now encasing you to the bar. Your eye’s leave the pilot's face, who is already glaring to the side of you, and find a pair of deep blue eyes watching you.

“Hi, Bobby.”

You give him a delicate smile, one that very few people ever saw, before lifting your hand to adjust the frames that rest on the bridge of his nose. A gentle kiss is placed on your temple before Bob pulls away and looks at the pilot then back to you.

“What are you doing, Cher?”

“Just playing.”

The words are easy as they slip off your lips and have Bob laughing, while the other pilot stares at you in silence. He had witnessed you “play” with cocky pilots on more than one occasion and while it was all a game to you, he didn’t trust any pilot whose ego you bruised.

You grasp the glass of whiskey from the counter, noticing that Penny topped you off, before shooting it like a shot. Your eyes remain on the pilot, as a small dribble of the liquor falls from your lips. Bob moves without thinking, as his thumb swipes across your bottom lip to catch it. Though before he can pull away, your lips wrap around his thumb and suck the amber liquid right off.

The action makes Bob roll his eyes, over the seven-year friendship he had become used to your antics and knew you better than almost everyone. When you first meet the pair of you had become instant friends, about 4 months into the friendship on a drunken night, the pair of you had decided to see just how compatible you were. Neither of you could keep a straight face and the night of “debauchery,” turned into a night of horror moves cuddling after the ultimate failure of making out.

The pilot watches you in silent shock, as you pat his shoulder once and give him a smirk. Your form pushes off the bar, clutching Bobby’s hand and tugging him with you. Though before you can get far you turn back around, looking past Bobby’s smirking face to see the man not only stunned but mad. Just like those old cartoons, waiting for the steam to release from his ears.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Cherry. The resident bitch of the United States Navy.”

...

Bob pulls you forward and tugs you toward the bathroom hallway, before stopping in a corner. Your body settles against the wall, though Bob’s arms are quick to wrap around you and pull you into a tight hug. You clutch onto the back of his shirt and relax knowing that you wouldn’t be facing anything alone. Not tonight or during the next 6 weeks.

“When did you get back?”

The words are muffled against your neck, but you hear them clear as day.

“About 40 hours ago.” Your voice is teasing, though the small hitch at the end tells Bob just how tired you are.

“If you would have told me you were coming, we could have driven down together Cher.”

“I know.” You nod gently before your head falls back to rest against the wall. “I just needed the time. They say it gets easier with time, but every time I come back it feels like I’m still that little girl. Losing the only life I knew and getting shipped off to Texas. It wasn’t just my parents who died, the person I was, my life, died too.” A shuttered breath courses through your body, and your hand tightens around Bob's. The tightening in your throat only grows and has you pushing out a forced laugh, anything to change the current topic of interest. “Plus, Adams told me a little bit about the detachment and said that they might be here, which was correct according to the bronco sitting in the lot.”

“Yeah, I just had the pleasure of meeting them. Rooster doesn’t seem horrible and well Hangman, he’s just like you described.” Your eyes roll and any form of smile falls from your face. “Come on, Cher. It’s been ten years.”

Your hand reaches up to spin the pendant on your necklace, a nervous habit that you had picked up. Though your fingers are stilled, as Bob reaches up and grasps onto your hand bring it down to relax by your side.

“Ten years, that I’ve spent making sure that I am better than them in every way, Bobby.”

Your eyes move from Bob and settle on the wall opposite of you, at the flash of disappointment in his eyes. A deep sigh emits from his chest, and your head tips back to lean against the wall behind you, staring that the wood-beamed ceiling.

You hate disappointing Bob, he was like your big brother, but he also knew the full story and couldn’t blame you for the hate you still carried for the pair. The story of your callsign followed you around, it wasn’t like it died after leaving the academy. No, everywhere you went at least one guy brought your virginity.

“I’ll play nice, but the minute either of them say something,” a heavy sigh leaves your lips, and Bob's hand gently squeezes your hand in reassurance. Your head dips back down and your eyes sweep to his, to find only love and support. You give him a small squeeze back and a tiny smile, that was only for his comfort. Before vacantly muttering the words, “I will burn them to the fucking ground, Robert.”

A deep sigh leaves his chest, though before he can say anything you’re turning. You had enough of him playing the disappointed older brother and just wanted to have fun. You hadn’t seen him for 8 months and knew that the both of you had lots to catch up on.

A squeeze and a smirk are all you give him before you’re heading back down the hall and out into the bar. You can feel him trailing behind you, though you don’t slow. Your back straightens and the pace in your step quickens slightly, as you round the corner and catch sight of the all too familiar dirty blonde hair.

You make a bee-line for the pool tables, knowing that ripping off the band-aid would be far easier. Then standing around anxiously all night, waiting for one of them to show up. You side-stepping the guy from the bar, who had somehow magically found a home for the night at a table opposite of the pool tables. His hand reaches out again trying to grab at your sundress, and the small tug on it has you halting.

You pause momentarily still looking towards the pool tables and before you can turn around, your eyes find a pair of green ones. You both hold each other’s gaze and for a moment you think that you see a flash of pain and longing, but as quick as it appeared it disappears. You break the stare before anyone can notice and turn to be met with the smiling fool.

“Now sweetheart, it wasn’t very nice of you to run off like you did. Especially, since I bought you that drink.”

You glance down and find his hand at the hem of your dress, just barely grazing your thighs.

“Get your hands off of me, before I make you.”

The threat may appear minuscule, given the fact that you are all dolled up and in heels. Though the tone of your voice is anything but, and before Bob can move to remove the hand for you, you hold up one finger stopping him. The asshole only laughs at you, before standing and taking a step closer to you.

“Your callsign’s Cherry, right?”

A silent hum emits from your chest, and any patience you had are wearing extremely thin. Before you know it, a harsh hand smacks your ass. The sound echoes through the bar and you’re sure that you could have heard a dime drop. There’s movement behind you but you don’t pay them or Bob any mind, as said hand grasps onto your backside under your dress.

“Why don’t you refresh my memory of how you got your callsign.”

The words are barely past his lips before you lean back to throw a fist. It lands smack dab, in the middle of the asshole's face and the loud crack can only be presumed as his nose breaking. Bob is quick to step up between the group of friends as they make a move toward you, and distantly you can hear the ringing of a bell. Though your only focus is the asshole in front of you, who is now bent over clutching his nose as blood drips onto the hardwood floors.

Your dress sways as you move and you're positive that whoever is behind could easily see the thong under your dress if they really wanted. Your hair falls around your face as you lean into the man, getting as close as you can without actually touching him.

“You touch me again, and you’ll learn exactly how I got those two kills.”

You right your form and brush your dress down the side, before smiling back at Bob and holding out a single hand for him to grab.

“Come on Bobby, I feel like kicking your ass at pool tonight.”

A single shake of the head, followed by a deep sigh has Bob grabbing your hand as you pull him around the bloody mess. You easily spin around, to be met with a wall of khaki uniforms. You recognize three of the six faces, though the only ones you give a smile are the three unknown pilots and Javy. You can feel the way that their eyes burn into the side of your head, but you simply ignore them. Bobby asked you to play nice and you would until you couldn’t that is.

Your gaze settles on Javy, the only known pilot you were willing to make eye contact with. He gives you a small smile, which you return before you make your way to him.

“Coyote”

“Cherry”

Short, to the point, exactly what you needed right now. Your free hand raises to gently pat at his chest before you nod behind him. He side-steps for you, neither of you needing to tell the other where you wanted.

Pool was one of the many things that you and Jake shared a love for. Most of your childhood and teen years were spent in the Serein house playing pool and like Jake, Javy knew that pool was your go-to stress relief. It also helped that you were excellent at it and didn’t mind showing off.

The way he steps, if you could even call it a step, makes it so you have to squeeze past Jake and the cheeky grin that Coyote gives you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You look back behind you to see Bob talking with the three other pilots you didn’t know, two guys and one girl. The three seemed decent enough, like people that you might eventually trust. You gently tug the hand resting in yours to gain his attention, and you give the three pilots another smile before you move for the pool tables.

The hole between Javy and Jake seems to have grown smaller in the last minute, and you catch slightly as you go to push passed them. Your eyes rest towards the floor and all you can see are a pair of fucking boots with a pool stick settled in between them. Your jaw clicks and you realize just how much Jake wants to push you. Your eyes slowly rise, moving passed the well-fitted uniform and ignoring just how much he hadn’t changed. Including that arrogant smirk, that your eyes stop on momentarily before finding his.

You can’t bring yourself to break eye contact, sure you had seen Jake from a distance in the last ten years. But now, seeing him up close, seeing the emerald eye’s that once held your heart, a deep thrumming ache settles in your chest. Either of you makes an effort to move your line of sight and you wonder, for a moment, if Jake was feeling the same feelings you were. If he missed his best friend, or if you truly were nothing more than something to play with when he was bored.

Bob’s hand gives yours a small squeeze and has you looking back at him breaking you from the trance between the pair of you. Jake hasn’t moved an inch, though neither has Javy.

A sigh falls from you, and you know that neither of them plan to move. Javy might have been your friend, but he was Jake’s best friend, and he would always choose Jake. Without a second thought, you slip between the pair of them, sliding sideway between the space and causing your chest to barely brush against Jake’s. Neither of your eyes leaves the other as you stare up at him, and the casual stance he takes makes your blood boil. He sinks back into his heels and watches you before his eyes trace up and down your form.

The low whistle he lets out fills you with disgust and your glare hardens in defense. His smirk widens slightly, one you knew wasn’t real or at least wasn’t real for your Jake, but your Jake had died in the locker room, and in his place stood, an empty, arrogant, jackass pilot.

The pool stick rests between the two of you, and Jake’s hand resting on it isn’t really holding on to it. Your own hand finds it as you move through the gap and rip it from Jake’s easily, a taunting smirk now making its way onto your lips.

Other than that, you don’t acknowledge him. Not a single word was muttered or an ounce of emotion shown. You knew that it would piss him off, you knew every single button to push to make Jacob Seresin mad. Just like he knew every one of your buttons, unfortunately.

...

You can hear Bob muttering curses at you as you bend over the pool table. The only thing standing between you and winning was the 8 ball and you were lined up perfectly. You call top left corner, lifting your eyes to watch Bob as you make the shot. The crack of the ball sinking in the pocket has you laughing and holding your hand out for the 20 he owned you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a showoff all the time.” The comment is teasing as he slaps a 20 into your open palm and has you laughing.

“I seem to remember teaching you that little move, Cherry baby. As well as a few other things.”

The voice rings out and has you laugh halting, before turning around to glare at the blonde. Your eyes glance back at Bob and find him quietly standing by, just waiting. Neither of them had said anything to you all night. Not when you were officially introduced to the squad. Not as you, Phoenix, and Halo talked about being the only women called back. Not when you were left alone at the bar to get the next round of drinks.

It had been radio silence the whole time, each of them too busy in their own conversations. Though it seemed like your luck had officially run out. Your eyes shift from Bob to look at Hangman and the wink he gives you only furthers your annoyance. Your hip rests on the pool table and while the group had been preoccupied, the comment followed by Rooster laughing gained their attention.

The pair of them move closer to you, pushing you back till your nearly sitting on the pool table. Your unassumed gaze doesn’t change though and as you shove the 20 into your bra, you make a move to leave the pair. Though your actions are futile as Rooster catches your arm and pulls you back.

The action has Phoenix and Coyote moving for you, though it’s Bob that holds up a hand. Quietly telling them that the sooner this happened the better, the three of you were the only ones that could fix the current predicament. It wasn’t like Bob was leaving you to the wolves though. No, Bob knew just how much you could take and if you really needed the help, he would be the first one stepping in.

“Vague innuendos, how original of you Bagman.” Your eyes pass between the pair, before settling on Rooster. “I’m assuming you’re the bottom in the relationship, Chicken? Given the fact that you’ve only been able to glare at me and grab me.” Your hand rises to pry fingers from your forearm and a small chuckle leaves your chest. “Little weak there, honey. Might wanna start doing something to fix that or are you too busy being his bitch.”

Your head tilts in question as a mocking look of wonder graces your face. The glare Rooster gives you has you laughing lightly, overjoyed at how easily you can rile him up.

“I forgot how much of an annoying bitch you were, y/n.” The words drip with acid and at one point in time would have hurt you. The girl they knew, would have been devastated, but that wasn’t you anymore. Jake wasn’t the only one that died in that locker room ten years ago.

“Oh, thank you.” A small smile rises on your lips before your hand gently reaches out to rest on Rooster’s chest. You push up from your position on the pool table and step even closer to the pair. “I hope you sincerely mean that because then I know I’m successfully making your life a living hell.”

You go to push through the pair again, hoping to see if Bob wants to go home. You had more than enough socializing and needed to be ready for tomorrow. From tomorrow on, the mission would hold the most importance in your life. You would be flying this mission, you had to.

You don’t get far from the pair, just barely passed them when Jake’s voice rings out. “You need to get over it, Cherry. One of us is going to be mission leader,” his hand gestures between Rooster and himself. “and you’ll fall in line willingly or well...” a shrug of his shoulder says it all and you can’t stop yourself.

Your feet are moving you back to the pair before you can think it through and you see Bob move for you, but you're already right back where the pair want you. You shouldn’t let them rile you up, that was your game, but the sublet threat didn’t sit well with you.

“Understand this,” Your voice had yet to be harsh, till now. “If anyone is going to be mission leader, it’s me. You’re both welcome to challenge me, but you will lose and I will fucking enjoy watching you burn in.”

You leave before anyone can say anything, no longer caring if Bob was coming with you or not. You needed to get out of the damn bar and as far away from them as possible. Tears threaten to break as you get outside and only when you are safely in your jeep do you allow your tears to fall.

#callsign cherry 🍒#jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin x reader #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #tgm imagine #tgm fic #tgm #gingy writes

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